


Reconciliation

by polluxcastor



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Discussion of Mass Genocide, Gen, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, ptsd themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-06 08:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polluxcastor/pseuds/polluxcastor
Summary: Phobos awakes on a mysterious ship far away from home, with no memory of how he arrived. He's surrounded by a crew of strange people; a sentient robot with a terrifying gaze, a man who is also a strange furry beast, and their captain, a strange being from an unknown planet who greeted him with much curiosity. Phobos must adapt to life on a strange planet and cope with the fact that he has no memory of how he got there. What happened to him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for TWBB 2018!! It took a while but here it is!

The shuffling around the castle and the whispered murmurs was enough to wake him from a dead sleep. Something had happened. Phobos opened his eyes and got out of bed. He could hear the castle staff murmuring and speaking in hushed whispered, shuffling by his door every so often. He pulled on clean clothing for the day and brushed his long locks of golden hair. He had to look presentable, no matter what was happening. 

He stepped out of his room, and the staff nearby gasped softly, lowering their heads and murmuring amongst themselves. Something was wrong. Phobos made quick pace to the palace center, seeing more people than you’d normally see gathered around, even local news gatherers standing around. Phobos kept to the outskirts of the room, heading into the throne room, hoping to find the king and queen. The room was deserted. Maybe his brother knew what was going on. 

Deimos had been sick for the past few weeks. A strange sickness that started from the inside was slowly consuming him like fire. The doctors and healers said he was on the mend, which made Phobos glad to hear. Deimos was Lord, heir to the throne. If anyone was more deserving of that title, it was his brother Deimos. Phobos turned the corner to head towards Deimos’ room and was stopped dead in his tracks. 

Both the king and queen, his parents, and numerous healers and doctors were gathered around Deimos’ bedroom door. The murmurs were the same here as they were everywhere else. Phobos crept closer, curiosity getting the better of him. Once he was close enough, he was able to peer over some of the doctor’s heads. His brother was lying peacefully on the bed, his form covered in a thin white veil. Phobos didn’t have to ask what happened. He felt his chest tighten, his hearts beginning to throb. 

Deimos was dead. 

Phobos didn’t have it in him to weep. He put his hand over his chest, feeling the pain and sorrow build up from within. He stepped back, slumping against the wall. He didn’t feel his parents coming to his side. He didn’t acknowledge his parents pulling him away from the scene. He felt numbness spreading through his body. There were too many thoughts coming to the forefront of his mind. His mind was racing. 

“Phobos.” 

What did this mean? How did this happen? His breath quickened, tears welling up in his eyes. He put his hands on either side of his head, feeling both overwhelmed with this new information and the feeling of agony still thrumming through his chest. 

“Phobos, sweetie.” His mother put both her hands on his shoulders, trying to shake him out of this rush of panic that went through him. Phobos looked up at her, wordlessly mouthing, grasping for any sort of words for how he felt. She pulled him into a tight embrace, smoothing his hair with her hands. 

 

The next few days brought the news of the passing of Lord Deimos to the people of Alita. The people were devastated. Flowers and gifts were brought to the castle as gifts for the family, as well as quiet ceremonies to remember the Lord for his good deeds and growth as the leader to be of the Alitian people. Phobos spent most of this time in his room, trying to sort out his feelings. 

Venuia, the queen and Phobos’ mother, frequently sent housekeepers to check on her now only son, while Aerus, the king and Phobos’ father, worked to sort matters out of bestowing lordship to the next heir. 

Phobos was set to be the next Lord. 

This thought haunted Phobos, causing his skin to tinge green from it’s normal dusty blue color, showing signs of unease and sickness. Doctors came to check on him regularly to make sure he did not have the same sickness that took his brother. All signs pointed to clear, as tests came back negative. He stayed cooped up in his room, atop one of the spires in the castle. 

He hated the idea of having to be Lord. The thought made him queasy at best, and thinking too much about it made him physically ill. There was so much work involved in being a Lord. Plus it ruined his hopes of ever being spacebound. He wanted to see the surface. Alita was an underground society. The planet surface was hostile and harsh, a vast desert with a never-setting sun beating down on the planet. Despite such a harsh wasteland, the surface was cold and dry. He dreamed of one day becoming a surface traveler, meeting with spaceships and going into space to gather supplies for the vast underground community. Now that hope was nothing but a far off dream, as he would have to assume Lordship as soon as his brother Deimos was laid to rest. 

That day was today. 

Phobos avoided anything he could that had to do with thinking about being Lord. He tended to his plants. He went for walks around the Garden of Dusk. He tried his best to stay out of the eye of any citizens, and especially those associated with the news gatherers. At this current moment, he sat outside the castle in the main courtyard. Visitation to the castle and palace had been restricted for the day, as preparations were being made for the burial of Lord Deimos. 

It was beautiful. The entire underground was lit with bioluminescent plant life and motes of glowing, harmless bacteria. The city was lit in faint orange light all the time, casting deep shadows across the impossibly high arching buttresses of the castle walls. The city was bathed in the light of dusk every moment.   
Phobos sighed quietly to himself, staring down at his feet. He shuffled them a little, kicking up some dirt from the path. His mind was full of thoughts. What if the people don’t take to me like they did Deimos, he thought, what if I’m not successful and I lead my people astray? He wrung his hands in his lap, trying to remember to breathe. Everyone had assured him that this would be fine. Despite growing up with Lordship teaching and training, so to speak, Deimos had always shared his lessons with Phobos. 

If anything ever happens to me, he would always say, it’s important for you to remember this just in case. Phobos had always hoped it would never come down to that. His brother would be alive forever, he thought, subconsciously picking at the skin around his fingernails. Their species was long lived, after all. Surely nothing bad could ever happen right? 

Maybe Phobos had gotten too comfortable; too comfortable in his position as son instead of Lord to the throne. He didn’t feel he was ready for such a position. There was no way. He let out a shaky sigh. 

Breathe, he told himself, breath with double the beat of your hearts and your fear will ease. An old saying. Something his mother told him frequently as a child when he would worry without care, frequently causing him to be ill. It helped some, especially in times of stress. 

He should think of it as an honor, to be coronated in front of his entire extended family. Their spirits would be watching, as would half of Alita. Maybe it was the fear of being judged for having a lack of training that was making the pit in his stomach grow. He felt ill. 

Before his mind could wander too far into madness, a house servant approached him. Phobos heard the footsteps and looked up, catching her eye. 

“Phobos, your parents have requested your company for dinner.” She said softly, giving a small bow that showed her respect to him. Phobos stood, giving a little nod in return. 

“If you wouldn’t mind telling them that I will be joining them soon, I’d like just a few more minutes by myself.” He said, his voice soft. 

The house servant nodded and retreated back into the castle. Phobos took his time, walking around towards the back of the castle, heading to the entrance to his tower. He stepped on each individual stone in the cobblestone path up to the door, mentally taking notice of the sound his shoes made on the stones. It calmed him even more as he headed inside. He waved his key on the door, pushing the door open. It was exactly 200 stairs to the top of the tower. By this point he could climb to the top without even getting winded. It gave him time to think. 

Once at the top, he waived his key again, this time unlocking his bedroom door. He stepped inside, wanting to freshen up before dinner. He sat down at the vanity, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked a mess. His hair was messily braided, hair sticking out in places. His skin was splotchy, his glow was dim. His solid white pupiless eyes looked sunken, dark circles under his eyes from lack of rest. He swore he saw worry lines appearing at the corners of his eyes on his forehead. He took his hair down, giving it a good brush. Once it was silky smooth, he brushed it back behind his pointed ears, sighing. He didn’t look much better, but he was sure his parents would understand. 

He headed out of his room and into the main hall. The palace was nearly empty. Normally this place was a bustling center for activities and tours. The palace contained the entire history of the planet and the Alitian people. It was treated like a museum; not only for past history of the planet, but current history. Phobos walked past most of it, since most of his classes were taught in the main palace. He headed into the throne room, looking down the long corridor to the twin thrones sat, up on some sort of pedestal for all to see. One day he’d sit up there. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and headed into the side room, the dining room. 

Even this room, while designed to feel spacious and homey, felt cold and empty. His parents sat at the head of the table, and a place had been set for Phobos. Deimos’ seat at the table lie empty, forever a reminder of their loss. Phobos stepped up to the table, taking his seat. 

“Thank you for joining us, Phobos.” Venuia said, putting her hand on his. He lowered his head some, giving a brief nod. 

“You’re welcome.” Phobos mumbled in reply, keeping his head down some. His mother sighed, brushing his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears. A plate of food was set down in front of Phobos. He didn’t feel very hungry. 

“You should eat.” Aerus said, taking a bite of food for himself, “I know it’s a difficult time, but you need your strength. You’ve got a lot ahead of you in the next few weeks.” 

“Please don’t remind me…” Phobos mumbled, picking up his utensil and pushing his food around on his plate. 

“It’s perfectly acceptable to mourn, Phobos. I can assure you we have done out fair share of it over the past few days. I know we have not had a lot of time to talk about this. How are you holding up?” Venuia’s sweet voice asked, gently giving Phobos’ hand a squeeze. Phobos thought about his words carefully. 

“I never wanted to be a Lord.” Phobos said, looking up from his plate. “Deimos...he...he was so much better fitted for it. Better suited. He could talk to people and just...had a real connection with them. The title doesn’t really suit me. It never has.”

“It does suit you, Phobos. The seers and I did See you become Lord in one possible timeline….but we did not See that it would be because of this, or even this soon.” She lowered her head some, frowning. Venuia had been blessed with the power of Sight when she was younger. When she married into the family, she became a powerful voice to the Seers who aided the kingdom in making important decisions. While they could not See the exact future, they Saw many possible futures that any number of which could hold truth to their vision. 

“It’s okay, Venuia.” Aerus spoke up, after clearing his throat. “It’s not expected that the Seer Council would have been able to See these events. We must continue to press forward.” Despite losing the heir to his throne, Aerus was optimistic. He had more faith in Phobos than Phobos had in himself. He was a headstrong leader, victor of the only war their society faced. Everyone looked up to him to be fair and kind during this era of peace and wellbeing. Even a death in the family wasn’t enough to bring him down. How easy he was able to get over the death of his son bothered Phobos. He could never truly speak up and say anything, but he hoped he never had to put on that sort of face for his people. 

Phobos managed to eat a little bit of food before the three of them departed from the table to go get ready for the funeral and coronation. It felt morbid to take the title from the deceased and pass it on to the living. Such was tradition. Phobos headed back through the palace hall to his tower, finding upon entry that an appropriate outfit had been placed on his bed. It was a garment made from fine silk, woven to be extremely light and comfortable. It was black as abyss, decorated with faint silver and gold designs of flowers and paisley. Traditional garb for special occasions. The outfit was a long tunic with belt and hood, accompanied by a pair of form fitting pants and soft cloth boots. He stripped down and pulled the tunic over his head, leaving the hood down. The form fitting pants came next. He fastened the belt around his waist and turned to look in the mirror. 

The outfit was slightly too big for him. It was a hand-me-down from Deimos, who was older and a bit larger than Phobos, who looked frail in comparison. He once again took a seat at the vanity, brushing his long hair. With practiced precision, he braided a chunk of hair around his head, forming a place where his new crown would sit right above his ears. The rest of his hair flowed loose and free, pinned back by this circular braid. It framed his face nicely, bringing out his prominent cheekbones, and sharp features. Several pieces of ornate jewelry lay out on the vanity as well, possibly laid there by whomever had dropped off the garment. He picked up a few pieces that he figured would go well and attached them to his outfit. A simple teardrop broach made from a beautiful multifaceted glass, and a simple necklace made from glass beads. It would do, Phobos thought, sliding on his boots. 

With one more glance in the mirror he saw almost a completely different person. He still looked exhausted, worried, and sickly, skin still splotchy with green flecks of color around his ears and throat, but he had a much more regal look to him now. His outfit, despite it being slightly too large, showed a hidden confidence. Perhaps it was the way he was standing. Perhaps it was the lighting in the room that made it such. He didn’t give it much thought before he left the room, heading down to the palace entrance to meet with his parents for the procession into the catacombs. 

There were one thousand or so steps down to the catacombs. The decent was long and quiet. Phobos stood near the back of the family, keeping his head down. He had pulled up his hood, letting it conceal his face as they made their decent. The further down they went, the darker and colder it got. Phobos wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. 

The general public was allowed to attend the funeral, but due to the sheer number of people that wanted to attend, they were lined up along the thousand steps leading down into the chasm below. At the bottom of the steps, the crowd was parted to allow the royal family through. The catacombs were made of a giant hole extending down toward the planet core, and up as far as the eye could see. Carved into the walls of the chasm were holes just big enough for the casket to slide into before the hole was closed up with soft soil. This way, flowers could be planted by the family of the deceased if they so chose to. 

The actual funeral and coronation ceremony would take place on the movable lift that rested at the bottom of the stairs. The royal family plot was just off the edge of this platform. Aerus and Venuia approached the casket first, getting their last look of their beloved son before moving aside, letting Phobos approach. The young Alitian felt a knot in his stomach as he stepped up. 

His brother looked just as peaceful as ever. He looked like he was simply sleeping. His brother was much more elegant and handsome than Phobos. His features were even sharper, his brows arched in a high arch, skin ever so smooth. His hair was perfect, braided around his head, tucked behind his ears. When they were younger, they were frequently mistaken for twins, although Deimos was older by several years. Phobos had been so jealous of his brother. He got everything he ever wished for, anything he had ever desired. He was handsome enough to have suitors, and charming enough to make anyone swoon. Even now, in this state, he was beautiful. 

Phobos stepped away from the casket, moving to take his place next to his parents. The dedication to the ground was short and simple. Phobos couldn't concentrate on the words that were being said, spacing out as the casket was closed and pushed into the hole. His hearts were beginning to race again, this time thinking about the second part of the ceremony. As the hole was closed with soft dirt, the entire demeanor of the room changed. 

"And with what has passed brings something new into the light." 

Phobos worried his hands in front of him. It was time. He had to accept his new duties. 

"Phobos. Please step forward." The Cleric spoke, motioning for Phobos to come forward. Nervously, the young Alitian stepped forward, standing in front of the Cleric. He knew this man. He was an old family friend, an elderly gentleman, one of the highest order. Phobos had no reason to fear him, but all the eyes on him made him feel so small. 

"From this day forward, you will be crowned Lord Phobos, son of Aerus and Venuia, our blessed king and queen, heir to the throne. You will begin training for Lordship as soon as possible. Do you accept these duties?" The Cleric asked, looking down at Phobos. 

He knew he had to answer. He knew the answer had to be yes. He couldn't help but wonder though what would happen if he said no. This was the last thing he could have wanted, but as the only surviving son of the king and queen, it was his duty. His role. His destiny. In the history of his people, there hadn't been a single Lord that refused the crown. What would happen? Would there be consequences for that answer? Would he be cast out like a criminal, forced to wander the endless wastes of the planet before succumbing to the cold? He cleared his throat before he stated his answer, a very weak, soft reply, his voice unable to muster any confidence. 

"I accept."

The Cleric smiled down at Phobos and gently removed Phobos' hood. He took the crown and placed it gently on Phobos' head. It felt heavy and unnatural on his head. It was a circlet of rough cut jewels of purple, green, silver, and gold. Despite it's weight, it fit his head perfectly, sitting on top of the braid around his head. He was instructed to turn around and face the crowd. 

"It is on this day that Phobos, son of Aerus and Venuia, is crowned Lord Phobos." The Cleric spoke loud and clear, the crowd applauding for their new Lord. Phobos wanted to run and hide more than anything. His hearts wouldn't stop racing. The applause faded to soft mumbling and whispering. The Cleric moved to grab something. 

"A Gift." He said, voice strong, "Before his Lordship passed, he gave one final wish. This wish was to bestow his belongings to the next Lord. More importantly, one item in particular was to be given directly to his successor, something he held most dear to his heart." Phobos turned to look at the Cleric, who was holding a slim black case. Phobos gasped softly. 

Without having to even open the case he knew what it was. Music was integrated into everything they did as a society. From a birth, young Alitians were taught to sing, and later moved on to playing instruments. Everyone in society had musical training from birth. Music was the lifeblood and backbone of their people, and was regarded and cherished as such. When Phobos and Deimos were younger, while they still attended classes together, both of them were gifted guitars. Phobos' was small and a little worn around its curved edges. It had been handed down through the family for generations. Deimos on the other hand received an instrument that was very defining of his personality and appearance. The guitar was sleek, sharp, with graceful arching edges and sharper points. Phobos had been incredibly jealous of his brother, and desperately wished for an instrument like that himself. Now, in the wake of his brother's death, this guitar was being gifted to him. 

Phobos took the case with shaking hands, clutching the case to his chest. He took a deep breath, eyes filling with tears. He didn't dare start crying in front of this crowd. He swallowed hard before speaking. 

"Thank you." His voice quivered, betraying him. He cleared his throat some, "I'll take good care of it." 

With that, they were dismissed. The new Lord, the King, and Queen were escorted out first, starting their way up the thousand steps. As they passed everyone, there were soft murmurs of congratulations to Phobos. Phobos kept his head down, fearing to look anyone in the eye. As they got to the top of the stairs, the trio headed back to the castle and palace. Aerus and Venuia split paths with Phobos, letting him head to his tower. He climbed the steps to his room, feeling only slightly winded by the time he reached the top. Once inside, he carefully removed the circlet from his head, setting it on his vanity. It was pretty, he admitted, but it still felt wrong. He removed his other jewelry, changing into bedclothes. He sat down on the floor, crossing his legs beneath him as he slowly opened the guitar case. 

There it was in all it's glory; Deimos' guitar. He carefully pulled it out of the case, giving it a strum. It required amplification to really be able to be played, but for now, the muted sound of the strings was enough for him. He hummed softly, playing a soft tune. Something traditional. The instrument felt so good in his hands. He played well into the night, letting the music take him elsewhere. He stopped playing when his hands were sore, well into the 13th hour. He put the guitar safely back in his case, shutting it tight. He propped it up against the vanity, crawling into bed. Surrounded by soft blankets and pillows, he fell into a deep sleep. 

That night, he dreamed. Everything was a rush, a panic. People were running and screaming. In the dream, Phobos felt an urge to run. He whipped around, seeing his mother's face. She shoved something into his hands and urged him forward. He opened his mouth to inquire why, and she shoved him backwards, screaming.

"Run!"

Phobos woke with a start. His eyes flew open to an unfamiliar sight. Was he still dreaming? He pushed himself up. The bed was much firmer, and lacked his numerous pillows and blankets. Instead there was just a rough woven blanket draped over him. It was warm, but it felt very foreign and strange. The room was pitch black. There was no window. The only light was filtering in from what Phobos assumed was a doorway. Had he been locked away? He looked down at his hands, his glow soft. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them some, trying to encourage his skin to start glowing brighter. He felt uneasy. The pale blue light illuminated his garment. He wasn't even in his sleeping garments! He was wearing....armor? 

Phobos peeled back the blanket. He was wearing armor. He was wearing the red and gold armor of the surface travelers. Panic was starting to set in. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, putting his feet on solid ground. Just as he did so, the door slid open, flooding the room with a light that was much too bright for his eyes. He quickly covered his face, hearing someone step in and the door shut behind them. He blinked a few times, trying to chase the dots from his vision.   
The figure before him was shrouded in mystery, standing incredibly tall, with a light glowing and pulsing from the center of its chest. It was silent for a moment, the two of them just staring at each other, before the figure spoke up. Speaking in the language of his people, the figure said four simple words.

"Oh good, you're awake."


	2. Chapter 2

Phobos got to his feet, and almost immediately regretted it. As soon as he stood, blood rushed to his head, and made it throb. He clutched the sides of his head and fell back against the bed. 

"Oh! Please be careful!" The figure said, stepping forward to help. Phobos quickly smacked the figure's hands away, taking a weak fighting stance. 

"Who....who are you!? Where am I?" Phobos managed to squeak out, fear evident in his voice. His head was throbbing. 

"Please, you do not have anything to fear." the figure said, reaching for a switch on the wall. He brought the lights up a little bit, just enough to illuminate the two of them. The figure was a man, standing tall with a large pylon shaped helmet. He wore yellow and black armor that fit close to his skin. He had a bright smile on his face, or at least what you could see of his face. He extended his hand in a friendly gesture. 

"My name is Doctor Sung." He said, "I rescued you." 

Rescue? Why did he need to be rescued? Phobos thought back to the last thing he remembered. He remembered the funeral. He remembered curling up in bed, and he remembered his dream. He couldn't remember anything else. Thinking about it made his head hurt worse. He let out a cry of discomfort, clutching at his temples. 

"Please. You should rest. You hit your head pretty hard and it knocked you unconscious. After a brief exam of your head, it does look like you have some minor head trauma. This could cause some amnesia like problems with memory, so it's likely that you are very confused, and probably very afraid. I can assure you there's no reason to be afraid." Doctor Sung assured, taking a few steps closer to Phobos. The Alitian slowly lowered his hands from his head and gave a small nod, sitting back down on the bed. 

"There there." Sung said, stepping a little closer to him. "Much better. Now then, who are you? Can you remember your name and where you are from?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It took Phobos a few moments before he could speak. The pain was almost debilitating. 

"I'm...." He hesitated with his title, unsure if he should use it. Would it even be appropriate? "I am Lord Phobos, heir to the throne of the civilization Alita." He said, almost stumbling over his words. "Why am I not on my planet?" 

"There was a forced quarantine of your planet. We were passing by and we saw you on the surface. That planet is no place for life on the surface. You were alive, but injured, so we picked you up." Sung explained. Phobos was having a hard time wrapping his mind around this. He couldn't remember any of that happening. There was just a huge gap between the time he fell asleep until he woke up just now. Any time he tried to think about anything between that time frame his head ached. 

 

"Why can't I go back?" Phobos asked, looking up at Sung. 

"We honestly aren't sure we can get you back under the surface." Sung said, frowning. Phobos sighed, putting his head in his hands. Maybe some of his stuff survived.

"Was....was I recovered with anything?" Phobos asked, "Any items?" Sung motions to a pile of stuff in the corner. 

"There were a few items. There was a spare set of clothes, a blanket, an instrument, some sort of circlet that was on your head after we took your helmet off, and obviously the armor you're wearing." Sung informs him. Phobos let out a soft sigh of relief. At least the guitar made it. 

"So tell me, Lord Phobos." Sung asked suddenly, filling the silence. "You hesitated before giving your name." He had picked up on that? Phobos rubbed at his temples, trying to soothe his aching head. 

"Yeah, I did." Phobos said, voice soft, laced with irritation. "I was just granted the title. I'm not used to it yet." 

"Oh that's interesting!" Sung said, his tone lightening some. "How does one become a Lord? Is it like a hereditary thing or is it more of a voted position?" All the questions were making Phobos' head swim. 

"My brother died." Phobos blurted out. This seemed to shut the alien up for a few moments at least. 

"Oh." Sung said, his tone softer, more concerned than anything. "My deepest condolences. I didn't know." Of course he didn't, Phobos thought, mentally rolling his eyes. His head hurt too much to do it physically. 

"Can...can I have some time alone? My head is killing me...I'd really like to just rest my eyes some." Phobos mumbled. Sung took a step back. 

"Of course. I'll leave something here for the pain. Just some simple pain relief. I've tested it and it should work for your species." Sung walked over to something on the other side of the room. Phobos heard the sound of running water cut on and then off again. Sung then brought a glass of water and two pills and set them on the small table next to the bed. "I hope this helps." 

Sung turned making a move to head out of the room. He stopped at the door, dimming the lights before he turned back around. "Oh, before I forget. If you feel better and want to come out, make sure you put on your helmet. The ship is lit very brightly, and it will hurt your eyes, since they're light sensitive." With that, he headed out, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

Phobos let out a soft sigh when the door was shut, leaning over to take the medicine provided. He inspected it before putting it into his mouth. It was almost identical to medicine he had taken back home for pain, so it looked fine. He finished the glass of water and laid back down, resting his head on the pillow. He was exhausted. He closed his eyes and found sleep easily.

He dreamed the same as before. People screaming, falling to the dirt beneath them. He saw his mother's face again, shoving him backwards. He woke up again, this time drenched in a cool sweat. His head didn't hurt anymore, but he didn't feel any more rested than before. He sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the ground.

He could see the outline of the helmet in the dark on the side table. He picked it up, and held it in his lap for a few minutes, before he worked to put it on. He tied his hair back, tucking it into the neck of the armor before sliding the helmet easily over his head. He got up and flipped the lightswitch on, illuminating the room. 

The room was just as dull as he expected. There was a small sink and bathroom attached to the room. The walls were plain gray with no decorations at all. Phobos went over to the pile of items on the floor and started going through them. His instrument had been recovered, as well as his crown. He also found the funeral clothing. He must have had them on his person when he was recovered. How strange. He was more thankful that his instrument had been recovered more than anything. 

Phobos figured now would be a better time than any to explore the rest of his holding facility. He let out a soft sigh, and pushed the door open. The Doctor had been correct. The rest of the ship was very bright. Lit with bright white light, Phobos had to squint even behind his helmet to see properly while his eyes adjusted. The room he was in was just one room in a hallway with several other rooms. He made a soft noise of confusion as he looked around. He wandered to the end of the hallway, turning the corner. 

He must not have looked up fast enough because he ran into something extremely hard. He stumbled backwards, nearly toppling over as he looked up at what he ran into. There was a tall black and white robot standing in front of him. The robot had a sharp jawline and sharp facial features. Two glowing red eyes glared down at him. This robot was somehow taller than Phobos, and this made him quiver in fear. He took a couple of steps back, before he heard a familiar voice. 

“Oh did he finally come out?” It was Sung, who rounded the corner quickly, a smile on his face. Phobos looked up at him, and then looked back to the robot, who seemed to turn and stalk off in the other direction.   
“Hello!” Sung said, giving Phobos’ shoulder a gentle pat. “I hope you rested well. Did those pills help your head?” Phobos gave a little nod, his hearts still pounding inside his chest from the interaction with the robot. Phobos pointed after him, and Sung seemed to understand. 

“Oh don’t worry about him. He’s been reprogrammed somewhat recently. He wouldn’t hurt you. That’s Havve Hogan. He’s probably more curious than anything. He was there when I picked you up.” Sung waved it off, and ushered Phobos out into what appeared to be the main hall. 

The ship was nothing like Phobos had seen before. A lot of it appeared to be outdated technology, and new technology mashed together. There was what appeared to be a small kitchenette in this room, along with space for gathering together and eating. There was a beast of a man sitting at one of the tables, paw like hands wrapped around a cup. The cup seemed to be steaming. He glanced up from his beverage and visibly cringed at the sight of Phobos. He seemed uneasy. 

“H’suh dude?” He raised one of his hands in a sort of strange salute. His confidence was forced, as was his smile. This greeting seemed to jostle something in Sung’s memory, because the alien made a soft noise of surprise and turned around to Phobos quickly. 

“Almost forgot.” he said, handing him a small piece of equipment, “This is a translator. Until you learn common tongue, this handy little device will translate for you. There’s already a translator running on the ship now, but this is for when we’re off the ship.” Phobos turned the small device over in his hand. He clipped it to his belt for safekeeping, making sure it was turned on.

“That over there is Commander Meouch.” Sung explained, pointing to the lion man. Phobos just gave a little nod, taking a mental note of how uncomfortable he looked. 

Sung led him into another part of the ship, presumably the bridge. There were a number of chairs around consoles with various flashing lights and signals. At the head of the room was a large glass viewfinder, showing the outside world. Phobos’ eyes widened. While Sung prattled on about what this room was and what it was for, Phobos sauntered forward, putting his hands on the glass. 

They were in space. It was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. As they flew by galaxies and star systems, he could see the faint light of distant worlds as they passed. Sung made a soft chuckling noise from behind him. 

“I guess living underground, you never got to see this sort of thing, did you?” He asked. Phobos just shook his head, still mesmerized by the sight outside. But where were they going? As if he could read minds, Sung spoke up again. 

“We are headed to a planet called Earth. It’s home for us. It’s a wonderful blue dot in a sea of black. It’s wonderful. You’ll love it there. Promise.” Sung gave Phobos a bright smile. Phobos turned to look away from the glass, noticing instead, one of the numerous items on the dashboard of the ship. It was a glass crystal, slowly spinning, with a counter. It was counting backwards. Phobos didn’t know what any of the numbers meant on the counter, and he glanced up at Sung for an explanation. None was given however, as Sung ushered Phobos out of the room, eager to continue their tour of the ship.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time they had arrived on Earth, it was dark. Everyone on the ship gathered their things and headed off the ship. Sung lead the way inside the house, as everyone filed their way into their respective spaces. Sung beckoned Phobos over, leading him upstairs. 

“Your room is up here.” He said, climbing the last set of stairs. The attic of the house had been converted into almost something like a small apartment. There was a landing with a small sitting space, a bathroom, and then the door to what would be Phobos’ bedroom. It was a small room, with a simple bed in the corner. The ceiling vaulted to a point, and there was a window with a dark curtain draped over it. There was a closet and a wardrobe against one of the other walls. 

“Anyway. Make yourself at home. My room is downstairs next to the kitchen if you need anything. Try and get some rest. Okay?” Sung gave Phobos a smile, and patted him on the shoulder before he headed out of the room, and back downstairs. 

Phobos set his things down on the mattress, letting out a soft sigh as he looked around the room. He needed something else to wear.

Phobos dug through the wardrobe in the room, finding some clothing that would be appropriate for him to change into. He found a pair of soft pants that were a little too big for him, and a long sleeved shirt. Perhaps this clothing belonged to Sung, or maybe even Meouch. Regardless, it was better than the armor. He folded the armor neatly and set it on top of the dresser, making sure it wasn't wrinkled. He laid his jetpack, pauldrons, vambraces, poleyns, belt, and helmet on top of the woven cloth, letting out a soft sigh as he laid down. 

The bed was soft and he was able to relax, but sleep evaded him. Maybe it was because he slept too much during the trip to the planet, and the diurnal rhythms were throwing him off. His room was fairly dark, which he was thankful for. He sat up, finding himself missing the eternal dusk of his planet. This night was too long and too dark. His stomach grumbled, which made him grumble softly to himself. He didn't remember eating. The last meal he remembered was a few bites of food before the funeral and before going to bed. He pushed himself up, swinging his legs back over the edge of the bed. with feet planted firmly on the ground, he got up and headed out of the room. 

The house was near silent. As he headed down the stairs, they creaked and groaned under his weight. He stepped carefully, to be as quiet as possible. He made it back down to the living room, seeing Sung's open door to the left of the kitchen as he had mentioned. He poked his head inside, seeing the alien fast asleep. Best not wake him, Phobos thought, heading into the kitchen, or at least what he assumed was the kitchen. 

The kitchens on his planet were much different. With the advancements of technology, it made it to where most things were were either automated, or so easy to use, even a small child could prepare their own food if necessary. Replicator technology, which had been introduced after the war, was common. Although the planet’s underground had plenty of rich soil to cultivate vast gardens of crops, sometimes it was easier to just punch in some information of a meal you wanted, and the replication would make it happen for you. How convenient. 

Phobos stood in front of the sink basin, admiring the little details in the tap, and the details around the window behind it. He could see into the back yard, spotting the space ship just over the edge of the fence. There was an orange street lamp illuminating everything, and the sky was just starting to change colors. Phobos then turned his attention to what appeared to be metal box with a door on it. He pulled open the door, sticking his head inside. It smelled bad. It smelled like heat, and judging by the heating coils at the bottom, he figured it was something used to cook food. He pulled his head out and shut the door with a soft thud. 

There was another door next to this heat box, which when he opened it, he found wet dishware inside. Ah, right, he thought, a dish cleaning mechanism...moving on. Phobos went cabinet to cabinet looking for something, anything that he may be able to consume. He opened the pantry, finding boxed dry goods. He picked up a blue box of, well, something with yellow curved shapes on the front. Phobos mentally cursed himself, because he was just realizing in this moment, as he stared at the box in front of him, that he had left his translating device upstairs, and he literally had no idea what this was in front of him. 

He stared at the jumble of letters and shapes for a few solid minutes before setting it back down, deciding that there was no way he could interpret how to make himself something. He picked up a can, indicating that it appeared to be soup of some kind. At least it appeared to be soup. Soup was a pretty universal concept, Phobos thought, giving the picture some thought. Phobos didn’t really know how to cook for himself, but surely he couldn’t mess up soup, right? 

He turned the can over in his hands to look at the instructions. Luckily there were pictures on how to prepare the soup, but it was less than helpful. Put contents of can into bowl; okay that was easy enough, he thought. Put bowl in strange rectangle that dispenses radioactive isotopes; and now he was lost. Phobos sighed in defeat, putting the can of soup back on the shelf. 

Maybe the box of cold things had something in it. He was at least familiar with this piece of equipment. He pulled open the fridge and looked inside. There were several containers of a white liquid, and several six packs of glass bottles lined up neatly on the inside of the fridge. There was an entire drawer full of what appeared to be raw food in multiple colors. There was a purple item in the bottom drawer. Phobos opened the drawer and pulled it out. It was as big as his hand. He held it to his nose and gave it a sniff. It smelled sweet, like something from home, but also had some other scent to it he couldn’t describe. Bitterness, perhaps? The smell made him start to salivate. Perhaps it was the hunger.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. He closed the fridge and moved to the center of the kitchen. He turned the purple item over in his hands a few times before he opened his mouth and took a big bite of it. He held it in his mouth for a second before chewing. The inside of the food was strange. It was made up of many layers. As soon as he bit down on the bit in his mouth he regretted it immediately. It filled his mouth with a strong burning sensation. He coughed hard, rushing over to the sink to spit out whatever it was. The burning sensation remained however. He frantically turned on the faucet, cupping his hands under the stream of water to rinse his mouth. He spat into the sink again, trying to get rid of whatever poison this fruit had in it to make him react so violently. His nose began to run, his eyes started to water. 

He must have made enough noise to wake someone, because as he turned off the water and furiously rubbed at his eyes and nose, he turned and was horribly startled by a robot standing in the doorway. Phobos stumbled backwards, whimpering in fear as the robot took a step into the kitchen. He glanced from Phobos, to the red onion on the counter with a bite out of it. Havve silently reached into the fruit bowl on the counter, picking up an orange. Havve slowly removed one of his gloves, showing a surprisingly fleshy hand. Phobos watched as he gave his wrist a flick, and a small cutting apparatus slid out from one of his finger tips. Perhaps they were not fleshy at all. Phobos watched in fear as he slid his finger down the sides of this orange fruit, cutting off what appeared to be a rough skin. Once the skin of the fruit was removed, Havve flicked his wrist again, retracting the blade. He held the fruit out to Phobos, looking at him expectantly. Nervously, Phobos took the fruit from Havve’s hand and bolted from the room, heading up the stairs as quickly as his legs could take him. Havve watched him go, shaking his head as he stalked out of the kitchen and back over to his charging port. 

Phobos quickly shut the door behind him, panting softly, clutching the orange to his chest. He decided at least, in that moment, that this robot and him were probably not going to get along if he kept sneaking up on him like that. Phobos could feel his hearts pounding in his chest as he headed over to the bed, sitting down. He didn’t think the robot would poison him, not after removing the skin of whatever this round food was. It left a sticky residue on his hand as he brought it to his nose, sniffing it. It smelled vaguely acidic and smelled sweet. Much different than the other food he had bitten into. He flicked his tongue out at some of the juices. It tasted much better. His stomach grumbled as he took a bite of the fruit, letting the juices dribble down his chin. Whatever this was, it was delicious. 

It reminded him of home. Phobos sighed, leaning back against the wall, thinking of the times that him and his brother would sneak out of the castle, heading into the Garden of Dusk, picking fruit off the trees, all whilst giggling and whispering quietly to each other. The Sutrae fruits were big and purple, and only grew in this garden. Deimos would reach up and grab the ripe ones from the lower branches, eating them in secret behind one of the garden walls. Together Phobos and Deimos would let the juices drip from their mouths as they ate, giggling and whispering quietly to each other as they shared secrets. 

By this time, Phobos had finished the orange, and was just relishing in the feeling of the juice on his hands. While the room was still dark, the sun had risen above the horizon, and people were starting to wake up across the house. 

Phobos was pulled out of his daze by the sound of knocking on his door. Sung let himself inside, offering a smile to the alien. 

"I've made some breakfast." He said, "It's probably not anything like you're used to, but I figured some eggs and toast would be something good for us to get the day started with. Probably better than the onion you tried to eat this morning." Sung chuckled at the expression of shame on Phobos' face, waving it off like it was nothing. 

Phobos got up and followed Sung downstairs. The house was much brighter now that the sun was up. He squinted as he rounded the last turn of the stairs, following Sung into the dining room. Meouch was already awake and was absolutely tearing into what appeared to be some sort of breakfast meat. Phobos takes a seat across from him, looking down at the food on his plate. Sung explained that it was eggs, cheese, with some roasted tomatoes and buttered toast. He wasn't sure if Phobos ate meat, and decided to leave it out, just in case. 

Phobos ate quietly. The food wasn't really as rich as the food on his planet. He ate his fill. It tasted better than the onion he had eaten earlier that morning. As they were finishing up, Sung cleared his throat to speak. 

"So, everyone. In honor of us settling down here, we should probably go get Lord Phobos some clothing. It's probably better than what's here. We can get you a wardrobe to wear outside the house. It's got to be better than wearing your armor everywhere." Sung said. Phobos looked down at what he was wearing. The pants barely hung on to his hips, and the draw string was pulled as tight as it could go. The shirt hung off his shoulder. It was comfortable, but probably not the best thing to wear all the time. Phobos nodded.

"Oh and here." Sung handed him a pair of dark eyeglasses, the lenses were almost black. "These will help keep the sun out of your eyes." Sung said. Phobos took them and put them on. He had been squinting this entire time, and once the glasses were on, he could open his eyes and see clearly. Phobos nodded in thanks. 

He headed back upstairs, new glasses in tow. He dug through the wardrobe, finding something else to change into. He tried on a few things, finding some pants that fit him a little better, and a shirt that didn’t completely swallow him. Now dressed and hair somewhat brushed, he pulled on his shoes and headed back downstairs. By the time he got back downstairs, everyone else was ready to go. Sung ushered everyone out into the sunlight, closing and locking the door to the house behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Phobos couldn’t help but look up. The sun, even through the dark glasses was blinding. The sunlight kissed his skin, making it feel warm and even the faintest bit tingly. The sky was so blue. There was life everywhere. Trees arched over the walkway to the main road, and Phobos couldn’t help himself but to reach out and gently touch the leaves. He followed along the others, trailing ever so slightly behind just so he could take in everything. There were other people walking around as well, some with animals on leashes, making their way to whatever destination they chose to. They didn’t seem to pay any mind to the four of them. It was like it was an everyday occurrence to see two aliens, a lion, and a robot out and about on a walk. 

Phobos hadn’t noticed the others trail off to the side. He was looking up the clouds. Clouds! This planet had clouds and sky! You could see them both at the same time and it was amazing! Phobos stepped off the curb, not hearing Sung’s warning shout. His attention was grabbed by a loud honk. Phobos clutched his chest, stumbling backwards onto the sidewalk. The trolley had just pulled up, and Phobos had walked out right in front of it. 

Sung ushered him onto the trolley, paying the fee for a ticket for all four of them. They took their seats near the middle, and did their best to relax. Phobos had found himself a window seat, and as the trolley took off again, he was staring out the window at everything that passed by. Sure, his planet had transportation, but nothing quite like this. It was much different, much older than anything he had seen on his world. Primitive? Perhaps that was the word he could use to describe it. 

Meouch complained loudly as they got into the city. Some of it was clearly complaining about Phobos gasping and pointing out the window at every amazing thing he saw. Sung shut him up with a sharp comment, and the Lion got quiet. Once they were surrounded by buildings as tall as the sky it seemed, Sung pulled the cord on the trolley, signaling their stop. As the trolley came to a halt, the four of them filed off in single file. Once outside, Phobos went straight back to looking at the sky, now much more crowded as the buildings towered over them. Staring up like this was starting to make him dizzy. 

“Can we please go get coffee?” Meouch whined, pointing to what Phobos assumed was a coffee shop, or at least a place where they sold such a thing. He didn’t know what “coffee” was, but apparently Meouch seemed incredibly enthusiastic by the idea of it. Sung seemed to ponder for a moment before he nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, I could go for some.” Sung said, pushing the button for the crosswalk. Once the light changed, they headed across the street. Meouch offered at that point to get three coffees; one for himself, one for Sung, and one for Phobos. When prompted about what he wanted, Phobos just shrugged. Meouch shrugged and headed inside. Phobos was sure he’d figure it out. 

Without the sun shining over them, it was much cooler. There was a breeze that blew between the buildings. Phobos shivered from head to toe as they waited for Meouch to return. Soon enough he did, with three cups of coffee. Once they were passed out, they headed down the street to a much sunnier part of their path. The warm coffee in his hands helped. Even when he sipped it, it seemed to warm his whole body inside and out. 

They went into a series of stores in search of clothes that would fit. They must have spent what felt like hours trying on various pairs of what Sung called jeans and shirts that both buttoned up and went over his head. They found him everything he would need to fill the wardrobe with stuff for his own, from undergarments and headwear to outwear and sleepwear. Phobos didn’t want to know how much money they had spent, but Sung seemed calm and collected as ever. The four of them were loaded up with bags as they hailed a cab back to the house. Once inside, Sung helped Phobos carry the bags upstairs. He left him to his own devices, shutting the door behind him, leaving Phobos alone in his room with the pile of bags filled with new clothes. Exhausted from their trip, he left everything as it was, and fell asleep on the bed. 

By the time he woke up, it was dark outside again. How long had he slept? Phobos pushed himself up, rubbing at his eyes. He peeked out the window to see the moon bright in the sky, and a few stars here and there. He opened the window a little bit, breathing in the cool air from outside. It helped refresh him, but too much would make him shiver. He closed the window, locking it again. He sat down on the ground, getting everything out of the bag to fold and put away. 

As he was starting the first bag of clothes, he heard a knock at the door. Confused as to who could be up this late, Phobos got up off the floor and headed to the door. He pulled it open, and took a step back. Havve Hogan was standing in the doorframe, staring down at him with his red glowing eyes. Phobos could feel fear creeping up into the pit of his stomach. The robot terrified him. He took a few more steps back as Havve let himself into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Phobos looked between him and the door, seeing that whatever route for escape he had was now closed off. Before he could think of something else to do, the robot spoke. 

“DO NOT BE AFRAID OF ME, LORD PHOBOS.” He said, his voice deep and mechanical sounding. “YOU HAVE NO REASON TO FEAR ME.” Phobos of course thought that there were plenty of reasons for him to fear the robot. Who knew how many sharp implements were inside the robot’s hands, and after watching what he had done to the fruit earlier, who said he couldn’t do the same to Phobos? 

“I WANTED TO BRING YOU SOMETHING.” Havve continued, reaching into one of the pockets around his waist. He pulled out what appeared to be a small rectangle with a screen. He extended the device over to Phobos, who turned it over in his hands. As he touched the screen, it lit up, and there was some text on it. It appeared to be a translating device of some sort. 

“DOCTOR SUNG WAS KEEPING THIS IN HIS LAB, BUT I STOLE IT FOR YOU.” Havve said, moving to sit down on the floor. His motions were a bit jerky, but he managed to get down onto the floor and cross his legs under him in a very non-threatening position. But why would Doctor Sung have this, he thought, looking over it. It appeared to be custom made, with a screen of glass, that seemed to have touch capabilities. This was similar to technology on his planet, but somehow older. 

“IT’S A MODIFIED CELLULAR TELEPHONE. IT’S GOT A TRANSLATOR BUILT IN, AND YOU CAN SPEAK THROUGH IT. LET ME SHOW YOU.” Havve took the phone from Phobos’ hands, punching in a sentence in english, and playing it back in Phobos’ native tongue. Phobos stared at the device in awe. Sung did this for him? Phobos took the phone back, typing in a message. 

‘Thank you for bringing this to me.’ It said. Havve’s eyes flickered. Phobos wasn’t sure he knew what it meant. Perhaps it was a ‘you’re welcome’ or something of the sort. Phobos sort of shoved it off, putting in various things and letting the phone read them aloud. The pair spent the next hour talking back and forth, talking about Phobos’ home and life. Havve managed to even make the alien laugh, letting his guard down for the first time in a few days. After a few hours, Havve stood from his spot on the floor, wishing Phobos a good night. Phobos waved and went back to playing with the device as Havve closed the door.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been roughly a month. Day and night seemed almost normal to Phobos by this point. He had set up his room to make it more comfortable for him. He seemed happier on the outside, and he barely needed to use the translator anymore. He still carried around the phone Havve gave him so he could speak. He had been given many tools, including tools allowing him to communicate with his hands. Sign language, it was called, if he remembered correctly. 

It was an unremarkable night. Phobos had been spending many nights staring up at the stars, mapping them out as they went from night to night. He woke up early in the evening, after the sun had set. He headed downstairs with his notebook, only to find Meouch and Sung in a heated discussion. 

“Man, I’m just so bored.” Meouch said, slumping his shoulders, “I just wanna play. C’mon, can’t we jam? Phobos has a guitar, you’ve got your keytar, I’ve got my bass, and I know we have that drum set in the other room. C’mon, please?” Meouch was practically begging. Sung had his arms crossed over his chest, that frown on his face that he seemed to have had as of late. He looked as if he was pondering the suggestion. After a few moments of silence, he spoke.

“Alright fine. We can jam, as long as Phobos is okay with it.” Sung turned his attention to Phobos, who had just stepped off the last step. Meouch turned around and headed over to him. 

“Whaddya say, bud? You wanna play some music? I’d love to hear those guitar chops of yours.” Meouch said, patting Phobos on the shoulder, perhaps a little too roughly. Phobos looked back over at Sung, who gave a little shrug. Phobos shrugged in return. 

‘Sure.’

“Awesome! I’ll go get my shit! Let’s set up in here!” Meouch seemed way too excited about this. He hurried past Phobos, up the stairs to get his things. 

“Thank you.” Sung said, once Meouch had vanished up the stairs, “He’s been doing nothing but complaining about how bad he’s wanted this for the past three hours.” Sung shook his head and headed off to his own room to gather his things. 

Phobos headed back upstairs to grab the guitar. It occurred to him he hadn’t hardly played it since he had been rescued. He picked up the case and laid it out on the bed, slowly and methodically undoing the clasps on the case. He pushed it open and pulled out the pearly white guitar. It had fallen out of tune due to it having not been played. That was easily fixed. He pulled Deimos’ guitar from the case, grabbing the strap and a few picks. Slinging it over his shoulder, he headed back downstairs.

By the time he got back downstairs, mostly everything was set up. Sung was working on assembling part of the drum kit with Havve, while Meouch was setting up his bass and amp. Phobos walked over to the empty amp, setting his guitar down carefully. He went to grab some cables from the pile near the couch, when Meouch started playing. 

The sound was nothing short of fantastic. The deep resonating tones of his bass washed over him. Phobos stood there in awe for a moment, feeling the deep rumble of the tone in his chest. Meouch slapped his hand against the neck of the instrument, dropping into a low stance as he played some raw, unfiltered funk. 

Something changed. Phobos felt his body get hot, his face flushed a bright crimson. He let out a gasp, clutching his head as pain splintered across his vision. The last thing he saw was Sung rushing to his side as the music stopped and his vision went dark. 

“Turn off your amp!” Sung shouted, pointing at Meouch, who quickly turned the device off, shutting off any lingering ringing to the sound. 

“S-Shit man! What happened?” Meouch asked, watching Sung pick up a limp Phobos from the ground and hurry off with him, “Where are you taking him?”

“To the basement. To the workshop.” Sung replied, kicking open the door to the basement. 

Sung’s workshop. It was a forbidden space to all but himself and Havve. It was there that he presumably worked on various pieces of technology both for his own gain and to help improve Havve’s chassis. Meouch had never been let inside, but this was an exception. 

“What happened to him?” Meouch asked, as Sung knocked a bunch of items off the table, setting Phobos down. 

“His species is incredibly sensitive to Funk, or have you forgotten?” Sung spat, hurrying over to another table, grabbing a vial of something. He attached a funny looking tool to the end, tilted Phobos’ head to one side, and jabbed it into his neck. 

“Woah Doc, what are you doing?” Meouch cried, watching in horror. 

“Making sure he doesn’t die on my table, Commander.” Sung said, his voice soft, yet serious. “I’ve been working on this for a long time. I finally got it perfect. Sometimes it doesn’t work and he dies.” 

Meouch let out a low growl, taking a step back from the table, watching the bright crimson color start to fade from Phobos’ cheeks. 

“What does that mean?” Meouch asked. Sung glanced up at Meouch, and despite the dark visor that kept Sung’s eyes hidden, Meouch could still sense the glare. 

“Do you really want to know?” Sung asked after another moment of silence. Meouch shook his head. 

“No. No I don’t.”

As Phobos rests on the table, his mind races. He remembers, but only in fragments. Perhaps it’s just a dream. His eyes flutter open, and he squints almost immediately at the bright light in his face. Sung apologizes and moves it aside, darkening the space. 

‘What happened?’ His signs are slow and sluggish, but readable. Sung let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the table. 

“To put it in layman’s terms, your species is sensitive to funk. Meouch’s species thrives on it, and they’re naturally funky anyway, and it’s expressed through the soundwaves they emit through their instruments. So when Meouch started playing, and the raw funk hit you, it started to break down your DNA to a point where you would have ceased to exist if it hadn’t stopped. Luckily, I had a cure.” Sung picked up the device he had injected Phobos with, giving it a little wave. “This little thing saved your life. You shouldn’t have any problems with funk trying to kill you now.” 

Phobos let the information sort of sink into his brain, blinking slowly a few times, trying to wrap his mind around it. He guess it made sense. He wasn’t any sort of doctor after all. Doctor Sung knew way more than he did, and for that he was thankful. 

‘Oh.’ Phobos signed, giving a little nod, ‘Thank you.’

“It’s no problem.” Sung said, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “You should head back upstairs and rest. We won’t play tonight.” 

Phobos nodded and swung his legs over the table and hopped down. He was a bit wobbly on his feet, but managed to make it upstairs without a problem. Sung was sure Havve could help him pack up and head upstairs.

Once the door to the basement was shut securely, Meouch turned to Sung. 

“Doc, I’m afraid.” Meouch said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was obvious he was trying to be tough, but was failing, as literally every other part of him screamed that he was terrified. 

“Of what?” Sung asked, moving to clean up the stuff he had knocked to the floor earlier. 

“What if Phobos really remembers?” Meouch whispered, eyes darting up to the stairs, “What if he really remembers what happened….what if he tries to kill me again?” Sung let out a soft sigh, giving his head a shake. 

“Meouch, I told you on the ship when we had to put the memory block in place, that if it does slip, we will handle it. You knew it wasn’t a guarantee.” Sung said, putting a stack of books back onto the table.

“But what if he does….what if he tries to kill me again?” Meouch said, his fur standing on end. 

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it.”


	6. Chapter 6

By the time the week had come to a close, any lingering funk contagion had left Phobos’ system. That night, they had had a successful jam session, ending in a bunch of smiles and high fives. Phobos packed up his guitar for the night, grabbing his notebook and pencil, before giving a short wave to everyone and heading outside. He got settled on his blanket, hearing the faint commotion of everyone else packing up and heading to bed, or at least to the privacy of their own rooms. The only person who seemed to stay awake was Sung, who stood against the doorframe looking outside. Phobos didn’t notice however, as he had turned his attention to the stars. 

This had become a nightly event. Now that it had warmed enough for him to handle the temperature outside, he took his time both measuring and just watching the stars and the moon. Despite having been there for well over a month, this was still amazing for him to see. Tonight wasn’t unlike most nights, save for a minor headache that had caused the band jam session to end a bit prematurely. Phobos hoped that the fresh air would help clear his mind, and hopefully drive the headache away. 

He got settled, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at the stars. About fifteen minutes passed, and the pain started to get worse. He sat up and rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the increasing pain. As he sat there, he felt the pain bloom across the top of his head and move to the front, right behind his eyes. He cringed, grasping the sides of his head as the pain pushed through. As sudden as the onset pain happened, it stopped. Phobos felt almost a sort of popping sensation somewhere inside his head, and a shiver ran through his body. What was happening? Did something just hemorrhage? He inhaled sharply through his nose, the cool air reminding him that he was in fact alive. 

As he remembered to breathe, each breath brought a rush of emotion and feeling to him. Memories and thoughts flooded back, like a gate had been opened. His hands shook. His breath quickened. What was this? 

He was back at home again, in his room. He heard a commotion outside, and lots of it. There was a flurry of footsteps squeaking on the tile floor outside. He sat up quickly, brushing his hair from his eyes. He tucked it behind his ears as the door flew open. 

“Lord Phobos, thank the gods you’re alright.” It was one of the maids. She rushed over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders, giving him a gentle pat down his arms. “Please, get dressed. Hurry!”

Phobos gave a nod, and grabbed some clothing from the drawer, throwing it on as quickly as he could. The maid had grabbed a bag, and was shoving it full of items. She shoved a spare set of clothes into the bag, and the circlet of gemstones from the vanity. Once Phobos was dressed, she shoved the bag at his chest. 

“Take this. Hurry. Meet your mother in the courtyard.” She said, giving him a shove. Phobos stumbled forward, heading out the door. 

The entire castle was in an uproar. People were running, some were crying, some were screaming. Phobos hurried down the stairs as quickly as his legs would carry him. He could hear the maid behind him hurrying down as well. Phobos pushed the door open to the bottom of the stairs, spilling out into the courtyard. 

It was nothing short of horrifying. There were people all over running and screaming, some stopping in their tracks to collapse to the ground, where they stopped moving. Phobos felt his breath hitch in his throat, tears wetting the corners of his eyes. He looked around frantically, looking for the queen. 

“Lord Phobos!” The maid behind him shouted, pointing towards his mother. He rushed towards her. Veniua met him with open arms, touching his face and hair, smoothing it down. 

“I’m glad you’re safe, my child.” She said, her voice hoarse, “We must go. You have to go.” 

“What? Why?” Phobos asked, his voice raising to a squeak. He looked around frantically, “What is happening? Why is everyone falling down? Are they okay?”

“No, my child. Something terrible has happened, and we must get you to safety.” She said, pushing him forward. 

“My queen, his guitar…” The maid behind them croaked out, shoving the guitar case at them before she too collapsed to the ground, her mouth foaming, and her eyes rolling back into her head. Phobos gasped, stumbling back. He clapped his hands over his mouth, tears starting down his cheeks. 

“My child, lets go!” Venuia grabbed the guitar case, shoving him forward into a brisk run. 

They took off running across the courtyard, jumping over and dodging through dozens and dozens of people collapsing on the ground. They stayed close to one another as they headed into the inner city, heading towards the elevators that would take them to the surface. Phobos had only been here once in his life, to receive the mandatory training on how to put on surface armor in the event of something catastrophic happening. This felt catastrophic enough. 

They crossed over the metal catwalk that lead to the surface elevators. Venuia punched in a code to the console, as the door slid open. Phobos hurried inside, and turned once he saw that his mother wasn’t following. 

“Mother...please come on…” Phobos urged, reaching for her. She shook her head and stepped back, just out of reach. 

“I cannot go with you. You must do this on your own. There is something I must take care of here, for my people. I promise you….you will be okay. I have Seen it.” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She jammed the button on the console, initiating the startup sequence. Phobos screamed, reaching for her. She took the guitar case, shoving it against Phobos and into the elevator. 

“RUN!” She shouted, just as the doors slammed shut. 

Phobos let out a sob, pounding his fists against the door as hard as he could. The sequence counted down to zero as the pod rocketed towards the surface. Phobos braced himself against the door, sobbing. As the elevator came to a stop, Phobos quickly ran over to one of the panels, trying anything, desperately to make the elevator go back down to the previous level. Access was denied on order of the queen. Not even Phobos’ codes could unlock this override. It was useless. 

Phobos sank to the ground, clutching his knees to his chest. Everything felt hopeless in this moment. He could feel his face getting hot, more tears starting to come. He had never been to the surface before, despite his desire to. Now was not the time. He glanced up, looking around the pod. 

It was built like a safe house. There were beds in one of the rooms, a small kitchen with plenty of dried and canned foods. There was a rack of salted meat ready to be carved, as well as plenty of plantlife, to help sustain the air in the bunker. Every single screen was indicating that some sort of infestation, or disease had infiltrated the colony, and that escape was the only option. At this point, Phobos had no choice but to go up. 

He found the surface armor quickly enough. It was bright red and gold. He stripped down, pulling on the fine mesh red suit, making sure it was zipped up tightly. He tucked his hair into the hood, making sure it was all hidden away. He slid on the shoes and poleyns, which he secured behind his knees. Next came the vambraces that settled into place fairly easily. Next came the belt, which settled at the top of his hips. Pauldrons and jetpack came next, settling easily in the center of his back and draped just over his shoulders. Finally, the helmet. He held the helmet in his hands for a few moments, turning it over in his hands. With this last piece, he’d be ready to explore the outside world, something he had dreamed of for ages, but seemed wrong in this current place in time. Phobos took a deep breath and put the helmet on, securing it under his chin. The respirator kicked on as soon as he started breathing. 

Phobos turned his attention to the ladder that led out of the bunker. It was now or never. He put his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and glanced back at his things. He’d come back for them. 

Once at the top of the ladder, he braced himself on the wall and cranked open the opening to the bunker. He gave it a solid shove, the door flipping open with a thud. Bright light flooded the ladder tube, and even through the darkened visor of the helmet, Phobos still had to squint. He pulled himself out of the bunker, stepping out onto the surface of the planet. 

Once his eyes had adjusted to the harsh light, Phobos was able to get a good look around. The surface was nothing like he had expected. The sky was a deep red, and the sun shone overhead. Everything as far as they eye could see was covered in coarse sand. It was dull and almost grey, some of it being kicked up into the air as he took a few steps. There were a few trees around the bunker, but they had all but been stripped of their leaves long ago, leaving nothing but a dull brown husk stuck up from the dirt and sand. Phobos exhaled through the respirator, blinking a few times to get tears from his eyes. Where was he to go from here? How was he supposed to survive? 

Just as his mind started to wander, the ground began to rumble. Phobos stumbled forward, resting his hand on one of the trees next to the bunker opening, catching himself. He heard the shout of someone coming from down the nearest dune. He craned his neck to see, having to step back as a figure leapt over the edge of the dune. 

The man was large, wearing a suit of blue and black, with silver armored bits around his shoulders, arms, and legs. He had a thick furry mane of hair around his neck, and two animal like ears and a snout. The man blathered on in a language he didn’t understand. Phobos had never encountered an alien species like this before. Sure he had been present for other first contact, but not with this species. This guy was far from home it seemed. 

The beast seemed to pick up on Phobos’ confusion, because he dug a device out of his pocket, handing it over to Phobos. It appeared to be a translator, although the technology was severely outdated. Phobos was able to get it up and running soon enough, and was able to type in a message. Something simple: 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

It seemed simple enough. 

The beast fumbled with the translator when it was shoved back at him. The ground rumbled again, causing both of them to almost lose their footing. The beast quickly typed in a response, letting the translator read out the message. It was broken at best, but the words “shipment” and “chemicals” came through just fine. It was then that Phobos remembered the message on the screen in the bunker. 

Phobos felt a rage bubble up from inside him. He felt his face grow hot, skin flushed. He clenched his fists into balls at his sides, and screamed. His elbows flew back, punching the buttons for the jetpack, lifting him off the ground. The beast shouted and turned to flee the opposite direction. Phobos chased after him, but the next few moments were a complete blur. 

He remembered chasing the beast to a ship, and desperately trying to stop the ship from taking off. Then, faster than he could react, he was grabbed around the shoulders and pulled hard to the ground. He remembered struggling. He remembered being carried onto a ship. He remembered seeing his things be brought in with him, how they got there he was unsure, and he was then shut in a dark room. 

Phobos banged on the door as hard as he could, balling his hands into fists, screaming and shouting for anyone, anything to listen to him. He pulled the helmet from his head, throwing it across the room. He sank down against the wall, sobbing into his knees. The door slid open, a dim light flooding the room. A figure stepped inside. 

The figure spoke to him. He couldn’t remember his face, but the presence was calming, soothing. Phobos begged for death, for release, to be left with his family, his friends, his loved ones. The figure would not allow it. Instead, he offered something else. 

“I can help you forget this.” He said, voice soft and calm, “I can ease the pain for you, for not. It’s not a guarantee, but it will stop what you are feeling.” The yellow and black clad figure said, gently touching Phobos’ shoulder. 

“Anything…..please…” 

The figure gently touched the center of Phobos’ head, muttering and whispering something in a language he did not understand. Before long, everything became fuzzy, his head spinning. He slumped forward, getting one last glance at the being as his helmet was carefully placed back on his head. Everything went dark after that. 

Phobos gasped, opening his eyes. When had he closed them? He looked around frantically. He was laying on his side on a blanket in the backyard. How did he get here? As the thoughts rushed frantically through his head, with these added memories, he was having trouble placing the order in which things happened. His hands and legs were quivering. His face was damp with tears and a cold sweat that made his hair stick to his cheeks. After a moment of shaky breath, he pushed himself up to a seated position, pulling his knees to his chest. He felt nauseated. His head throbbed. 

“Phobos.” A soft voice said from behind him. Phobos whipped his head around so fast, the figure behind him was sure his neck would break. Sung leaned against the railing of the deck. 

“You remembered.” 

“What….did….you….do….to….me….?” Phobos whispered, his voice hoarse and whispy from nearly a month without use. 

“It’s a long story.” Sung explained, “I’d be happy to explain it to you--”

“Take….me….home.” Phobos demanded through gritted teeth. Sung opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it. Instead, he simply nodded and pointed to the spaceship parked not too far away.

“I will take you back to your planet on one condition.” Sung said after clearing his throat. He spoke clearly, and firm. “The condition is that you do not do anything to harm Meouch. He has no fault in this.” 

Phobos didn’t seem to care. He got up on shaky feet, heading towards the spaceship. Sung sighed and followed suit, locking up before taking off near silently. 

The trip was quiet. Phobos sat in one of the seats on the bridge, his knees pulled up to his chest, chin resting on top. He had done his fair share of weeping. Sung stayed quiet for a bit, before clearing his throat. 

“Phobos, I’m sorry.” He said, turning to face the distraught alien, “I did what you asked. I told you it wouldn’t be permanent. Nothing ever truly is.” Sung mumbled, folding his hands in his lap. 

‘Why did you lie to me?’ Phobos signed, not even bothering to look up at Sung. 

“It was necessary. If I had told you I erased your memories at the start, you would have been just as upset. I had to tell a little white lie to keep you safe. I didn’t want your mind to struggle. The block would have made it impossible for you to remember, and if I had told you the truth, it would have driven you mad.” Sung rubbed at his arm, a nervous gesture. 

‘Why are you protecting Meouch after what he did?’  
“That issue is a bit more….complicated.” Sung started to say, but before he could go on to explain, the sensors beeped. “Ah, we’re here.” 

Sung stood and flipped on the view screen. It took a few moments to warm up, but when it did…

Phobos stood and walked up to the window, putting his hands on the glass. 

There wasn’t a planet there anymore. It was all broken up into pieces. Lost. Gone forever. 

Phobos let out a whimper, sinking down to his knees. Weakly, he smacked his fist against the glass, as if that would truly do anything. His lip quivered, his shoulders trembling. 

“Gone…” He whispered. 

“This is why I was hesitant to bring you back here.” Sung whispered, moving to stand next to him, “I knew I had to come here. Mostly because of reasons, but I just knew. Sensors had picked up on the civilization below the surface, and how quickly the number of lifeforms was declining. It then picked up on a self destruct sequence, but there was active life on the surface. 

“I landed, and I saw Meouch’s ship being fired upon, and whatever his shipment was jumping into vents on the surface. I saw you soon after, and rescued both you and Meouch. We escaped the planet’s orbit just in time for the planet to implode. I didn’t want you to see it, so I put you in the windowless room.” Sung crossed his arms over his chest, letting Phobos absorb what he was being told. 

“I’m…..alone.” Phobos whispered, looking down at his hands. “My home….my family….”

“I know it’s tough, Phobos.” Sung said, crouching down beside him. “My family is gone too. Long gone. They died several millennia ago. As far as I know, I’m the only one left. You’re not alone, Phobos. You have us. I know it’s not the same, but we’ve got your back. I promise.”

Phobos was quiet for a minute, trying to focus on his breathing. Sung was right, he wasn’t truly alone, as the three of the other housemates had made life for him so easy back at what he was calling his new home. They seemed to genuinely care about his well being, not that his family didn’t, but it was different. They seemed much more like close friends than family. 

“I understand now….why I asked you to make me forget.” Phobos mumbled, his voice barely audible, “I was hurting….I was angry….” He shook his head some, “No. I’m still hurting. I’m still angry. This will take time.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Sung said, gently patting Phobos’ shoulder. “We will be with you every step of the way.”

“I’m….I’m not sure….I…” Phobos trailed off, his shoulder shuddering. He wasn’t sure he could handle this. 

“You know…” Sung started, “I could erase your memory again….but it’d probably be just a few short months before this happened again. I don’t really want to put you through all this again. It’s bad enough just watching it happen now.” 

Phobos simply shook his head, hair falling into his face. 

“No.” He whispered, “I just want to go home.”

“That we can absolutely do.”

It wasn’t long before they were headed back towards Earth. Phobos stayed quiet during the journey, even nodding off at one point. They arrived back on Earth just before dawn. As they headed off the ship, Sung stopped for a moment and pointed to the sky. 

“Look. That star right there.” He said, “That’s yours.” Phobos looked surprised. “It will always be yours. May it light your path even in the darkest of times.” He gave Phobos’ shoulder a gentle pat and gently nudged him towards the house. 

Havve and Meouch were standing in the doorway. Phobos brushed past Meouch without a word or a sign. He headed straight upstairs. As soon as he was out of earshot, Sung let out a heavy sigh. 

“What was all that about?” Meouch asked, watching him go. Sung just shook his head, leaning against the doorframe once they were all back inside. 

“He remembered.”


	7. Chapter 7

The house had been almost a little too quiet over the week. Everyone shuffled around quietly, keeping to themselves as day turned to night. Only one person had really seen or spoken to Phobos over the course of the week. He stayed up all night, sleeping all day, trying to distance himself as much as possible from everyone else. 

He still hadn’t processed it. He had lingering thoughts. Had they suffered? Did it hurt? This alone had plagued his thoughts for days, sending him into spiraling thoughts that ended in nothing but tears. The others had been nothing but supportive. They had left him notes and cards saying “Sorry for your loss” and “My Condolences.” More important than that, they had given him plenty of space. He sure needed it. 

One night, he finally felt comfortable enough to leave the attic and head outside. He hadn’t stargazed in a while. He rolled up his blanket under his arm, grabbing his notebook, and sextant. Maybe he just needed some fresh air. 

He tiptoed down the stairs, into the dark kitchen, sliding the glass door open and then shut behind him. Out in the yard, he spread out his blanket, getting comfortable. He took a deep breath and turned his eyes to the stars. 

It was a peaceful, clear, night. Even with the light pollution and the light of the moon, he could still make out the shapes and patterns of Earth’s constellations. He opened the notebook and sketched them out. A crude drawing at best, but even just this little distraction was helping. 

After about an hour he heard some movement behind him. Someone stepped out onto the porch. He could hear the faint clicking of a lighter, the whoosh of the flame, and the inhale and exhale of someone taking a long drag from a cigarette. Meouch. 

Phobos glanced back at the lion standing on the porch. Even just this glance alone was enough to make the lion shrink back some. Phobos guessed he didn’t see him sitting out in the yard. Meouch went to snuff the cigarette out, raising his hand in apology as he made to turn back to the house. Phobos instead waived him over. 

Meouch seemed reluctant at first. He opened his carton of cigarettes and shoved the half smoked one back into the box, pocketing it before he headed over. With a soft grunt, he sat down on the blanket next to Phobos. 

“How’s it goin, bud?” Meouch asked, his voice hoarse. Probably from smoking, Phobos thought.   
‘Not much. Just stargazing.’ Phobos signed. There was enough light from the moon to be seen clearly. 

“Yeah. It’s a nice night.” Meouch said, leaning back on his hands. Phobos let out a soft sigh, nodding. 

‘You know I remember what happened.’ Phobos signed, turning to face Meouch. The lion seemed to tense, even at just that. 

“Yeah…..Yeah, Doc told me.” He said, sitting up straight, “I’m really fuckin sorry about what happened...You really had every single right to attack me.”

‘No, I didn’t.’

“What?”

‘Doctor Sung explained what happened. I attacked out of anger. Out of fear. I was so afraid and angry. I didn’t listen.’ Phobos looked down at his hands, resting them in his lap. 

“Aw, Phobs, it’s alright man.” Meouch said, giving his head a shake, “It was kind of a shitty situation for the both of us.”

‘It was. I’m...still processing everything. I’m hoping that with forgiveness for my actions, that I can work towards accepting what happened.’ 

“If it helps, I forgive you for attacking me. I still think that it was justified considering what happened, but if it helps you with acceptance, I’ll forgive you.” Meouch said, holding out his hand for a handshake. Phobos smiled, giving his head a little shake before firmly shaking Meouch’s hand. 

‘Deal.’


End file.
